_Of our next great sorrow, and final joy._
And now might we have been at rest, and have thanked God on our
knees by day and night. For, besides mercifully saving us out of
such great tribulation, He turned the hearts of my beloved flock,
so that they knew not how to do enough for us. Every day they
brought us fish, meat, eggs, sausages, and whatsoe'er besides they
could give me, and which I have since forgotten. Moreover, they,
every one of them, came to church the next Sunday, great and small
(except goodwife Kliene of Zempin, who had just got a boy, and
still kept her bed), and I preached a thanksgiving sermon on Job
v., 17th, 18th, and 19th verses, "Behold, happy is the man whom
God correcteth: therefore despise not thou the chastening of the
Almighty: for He maketh sore, and bindeth up; and His hands make
whole. He shall deliver thee in six troubles, yea, in seven there
shall no evil touch thee." And during my sermon I was ofttimes
forced to stop by reason of all the weeping, and to let them blow
their noses. And I might truly have compared myself to Job, after
that the Lord had mercifully released him from his troubles, had
it not been for my child, who prepared much fresh grief for me.
She had wept when the young lord would not dismount, and now that
he came not again, she grew more uneasy from day to day. She sat
and read first the Bible, then the hymnbook, _item_, the
history of Dido in _Virgilius_, or she climbed up the
mountain to fetch flowers (likewise sought after the vein of amber
there, but found it not, which shows the cunning and malice of
Satan). I saw this for awhile with many sighs, but spake not a
word (for, dear reader, what could I say?) until it grew worse and
worse; and as she now recited her _carmina_ more than ever
both at home and abroad, I feared lest the people should again
repute her a witch, and one day I followed her up the mountain.
Well-a-day, she sat on the pile which still stood there, but with
her face turned towards the sea, reciting the _versus_ where
Dido mounts the funeral pile in order to stab herself for love of
Aeneas--
"At trepida et coeptis immanibus effera Dido
Sanguineam volvens aciem, maculisque trementes
Interfusa genas, et pallida morte futura
Interiora domus irrumpit limina et altos
Conscendit furibunda rogos..."
[Footnote:
"But furious Dido, with dark thoughts involv'd,
Shook at the mighty mischief she resolv'd.
With livid spots distinguish'd was her face,
Red were her rolling eyes, and discompos'd her pace;
Ghastly she gazed, with pain she drew her breath,
And nature shiver'd at approaching death.
Then swiftly to the fatal place she pass'd,
And mounts the funeral pile with furious haste."
--DRYDEN'S _Virgil._]
When I saw this, and heard how things really stood with her, I was
affrighted beyond measure, and cried, "Mary, my child, what art
thou doing?" She started when she heard my voice, but sat still on
the pile, and answered, as she covered her face with her apron,
"Father, I am burning my heart." I drew near to her and pulled the
apron from her face, saying, "Wilt thou then again kill me with
grief?" Whereupon she covered her face with her hands, and moaned,
"Alas, father, wherefore was I not burned here? My torment would
then have endured but for a moment, but now it will last as long
as I live?" I still did as though I had seen naught, and said,
"Wherefore, dear child, dost thou suffer such torment?" Whereupon
she answered, "I have long been ashamed to tell you; for the young
lord, the young lord, my father, do I suffer this torment! He no
longer thinks of me; and albeit he saved my life he scorns me, or
he would surely have dismounted and come in awhile; but we are of
far too low degree for him!" Hereupon I indeed began to comfort
her and to persuade her to think no more of the young lord, but
the more I comforted her the worse she grew. Nevertheless I saw
that she did yet in secret cherish a strong hope by reason of the
patent of nobility which he had made me give him. I would not take
this hope from her, seeing that I felt the same myself, and to
comfort her I flattered her hopes, whereupon she was more quiet
for some days, and did not go up the mountain, the which I had
forbidden her. Moreover, she began again to teach little Paasch,
her god-daughter, out of whom, by the help of the all-righteous
God, Satan was now altogether departed. But she still pined, and
was as white as a sheet; and when soon after a report came that
none in the castle at Mellenthin knew what was become of the young
lord, and that they thought he had been killed, her grief became
so great that I had to send my ploughman on horseback to
Mellenthin to gain tidings of him. And she looked at least twenty
times out of the door and over the paling to watch for his return;
and when she saw him coming she ran out to meet him as far as the
corner by Pagels. But, blessed God! he brought us even worse news
than we had heard before, saying, that the people at the castle
had told him that their young master had ridden away the self-same
day whereon he had rescued the maiden. That he had, indeed,
returned after three days to his father's funeral, but had
straightway ridden off again, and that for five weeks they had
heard nothing further of him, and knew not whither he was gone,
but supposed that some wicked ruffians had killed him.
And now my grief was greater than ever it had been before; so
patient and resigned to the will of God as my child had shown
herself heretofore, and no martyr could have met her last hour
stronger in God and Christ, so impatient and despairing was she
now. She gave up all hope, and took it into her head that in these
heavy times of war the young lord had been killed by robbers.
Naught availed with her, not even prayer, for when I called upon
God with her, on my knees, she straightway began so grievously to
bewail that the Lord had cast her off, and that she was condemned
to naught save misfortunes in this world; that it pierced through
my heart like a knife, and my thoughts forsook me at her words.
She lay also at night, and "like a crane or a swallow so did she
chatter; she did mourn like a dove; her eyes did fail with looking
upward," [Footnote: Isa. xxxviii. 14.] because no sleep came upon
her eyelids. I called to her from my bed, "Dear child, wilt thou
then never cease? sleep, I pray thee!" and she answered and said,
"Do you sleep, dearest father; I cannot sleep until I sleep the
sleep of death. Alas, my father; that I was not burned!" But how
could I sleep when she could not? I, indeed, said each morning
that I had slept awhile in order to content her; but it was not
so; but, like David, "all the night made I my bed to swim; I
watered my couch with my tears." [Footnote: Ps. vi. 6.] Moreover,
I again fell into heavy unbelief, so that I neither could nor
would pray. Nevertheless the Lord "did not deal with me after my
sins, nor reward me according to mine iniquities. For as the
heaven is high above the earth, so great was His mercy toward" me,
miserable sinner! [Footnote: Ps ciii. 10,11.]
For mark what happened on the very next Saturday! Behold, our old
maid-servant came running in at the door quite out of breath,
saying that a horseman was coming over the Master's Mount, with a
tall plume waving on his hat; and that she believed it was the
young lord. When my child, who sat upon the bench combing her
hair, heard this, she gave a shriek of joy, which would have moved
a stone under the earth, and straightway ran out of the room to
look over the paling. She presently came running in again, fell
upon my neck, and cried without ceasing, "The young lord! the
young lord!" whereupon she would have run out to meet him, but I
forbade her, saying she had better first bind up her hair, which
she then remembered, and laughing, weeping, and praying, all at
once, she bound up her long hair. And now the young lord came
galloping round the corner, attired in a green velvet doublet with
red silk sleeves, and a grey hat with a heron's feather therein;
_summa_, gaily dressed as beseems a wooer. And when we now
ran out at the door, he called aloud to my child in the Latin,
from afar off, "_Quomodo stat dulcissima virgo?_" Whereupon she
gave answer, saying, "_Bene, te aspecto._" He then sprang
smiling off his horse and gave it into the charge of my ploughman,
who meanwhile had come up together with the maid; but he was
affrighted when he saw my child so pale, and taking her hand spake
in the vulgar tongue, "My God! what is it ails you, sweet maid?
you look more pale than when about to go to the stake." Whereupon
she answered, "I have been at the stake daily since you left us,
good my lord, without coming into our house, or so much as sending
us tidings of whither you were gone."
This pleased him well, and he said, "Let us first of all go into
the chamber, and you shall hear all." And when he had wiped the
sweat from his brow, and sat down on the bench beside my child, he
spake as follows:--That he had straightway promised her that he
would clear her honour before the whole world, and the self-same
day whereon he left us he made the worshipful court draw up an
authentic record of all that had taken place, more especially the
confession of the impudent constable, _item_, that of my
ploughboy Claus Neels; wherewith he rode throughout the same
night, as he had promised, to Anclam, and next day to Stettin, to
our gracious sovereign Duke Bogislaw: who marvelled greatly when
he heard of the wickedness of his sheriff, and of that which he
had done to my child: moreover, he asked whether she were the
pastor's daughter who once upon a time had found the signet-ring
of his princely Highness Philippus Julius of most Christian memory
in the castle garden at Wolgast? and as he did not know thereof,
the Duke asked, whether she knew Latin? And he, the young lord,
answered yes, that she knew the Latin better than he did himself.
His princely Highness said, "Then indeed, it must be the same,"
and straightway he put on his spectacles, and read the _Acta_
himself. Hereupon, and after his princely Highness had read the
record of the worshipful court, shaking his head the while, the
young lord humbly besought his princely Highness to give him an
_amende honorable_ for my child, _item, literas
commendatitias_ for himself to our most gracious Emperor at
Vienna, to beg for a renewal of my patent of nobility, seeing that
he was determined to marry none other maiden than my daughter so
long as he lived.
When my child heard this, she gave a cry of joy, and fell back in
a swound with her head against the wall. But the young lord caught
her in his arms, and gave her three kisses (which I could not then
deny him, seeing, as I did with joy, how matters went), and when
she came to herself again, he asked her whether she would not have
him, seeing that she had given such a cry at his words? Whereupon
she said, "Whether I will not have you, my lord! Alas! I love you
as dearly as my God and my Saviour! You first saved my life, and
now you have snatched my heart from the stake whereon, without
you, it would have burned all the days of my life!" Hereupon I
wept for joy, when he drew her into his lap, and she clasped his
neck with her little hands.
They thus sat and toyed awhile, till the young lord again
perceived me, and said, "What say you thereto? I trust it is also
your will, reverend Abraham." Now, dear reader, what could I say,
save my hearty good-will? seeing that I wept for very joy, as did
my child, and I answered, how should it not be my will, seeing
that it was the will of God? But whether the worthy, good young
lord had likewise considered that he would stain his noble name if
he took to wife my child, who had been habit and repute a witch,
and had been well-nigh bound to the stake?
Hereupon he said, By no means; for that he had long since
prevented this, and he proceeded to tell us how he had done it,
namely, his princely Highness had promised him to make ready all
the _scripta_ which he required, within four days, when he
hoped to be back from his father's burial. He therefore rode
straightway back to Mellenthin, and after paying the last honour
to my lord his father, he presently set forth on his way again,
and found that his princely Highness had kept his word meanwhile.
With these _scripta_ he rode to Vienna, and albeit he met
with many pains, troubles, and dangers by the way (which he would
relate to us at some other time), he nevertheless reached the city
safely. There he by chance met with a Jesuit with whom he had once
upon a time had his _locamentum_ for a few days at Prague,
while he was yet a _studiosus_, and this man having heard his
business, bade him be of good cheer, seeing that his Imperial
Majesty stood sorely in need of money in these hard times of war,
and that he, the Jesuit, would manage it all for him. This he
really did, and his Imperial Majesty not only renewed my patent of
nobility, but likewise confirmed the _amende honorable_ to my
child granted by his princely Highness the Duke, so that he might
now maintain the honour of his betrothed bride against all the
world, as also hereafter that of his wife.
Hereupon he drew forth the _Acta_ from his bosom and put them
into my hand, saying, "And now, reverend Abraham, you must also do
me a pleasure; to wit, to-morrow morning, when I hope to go with
my betrothed bride to the Lord's table, you must publish the banns
between me and your daughter, and on the day after you must marry
us. Do not say nay thereto, for my pastor the reverend Philippus
says that this is no uncommon custom among the nobles in
Pomerania, and I have already given notice of the wedding for
Monday at mine own castle, whither we will then go, and where I
purpose to bed my bride." I should have found much to say against
this request, more especially that in honour of the holy Trinity
he should suffer himself to be called three times in church
according to custom, and that he should delay awhile the
espousals; but when I perceived that my child would gladly have
the marriage held right soon, for she sighed and grew red as
scarlet, I had not the heart to refuse them, but promised all they
asked. Whereupon I exhorted them both to prayer, and when I had
laid my hands upon their heads, I thanked the Lord more deeply
than I had ever yet thanked Him, so that at last I could no longer
speak for tears, seeing that they drowned my voice.
Meanwhile the young lord his coach had driven up to the door,
filled with chests and coffers: and he said, "Now, sweet maid, you
shall see what I have brought you," and he bade them bring all the
things into the room. Dear reader, what fine things were there,
such as I had never seen in all my life! all that women can use
was there, especially of clothes, to wit, bodices, plaited gowns,
long robes, some of them bordered with fur, veils, aprons,
_item_, the bridal shift with gold fringes, whereon the merry
lord had laid some six or seven bunches of myrtle to make herself
a wreath withal. _Item_, there was no end to the rings,
neck-chains, ear-drops, &c., the which I have in part forgotten.
Neither did the young lord leave me without a gift, seeing he had
brought me a new surplice (the enemy had robbed me of my old one),
also doublets, hosen, and shoes, _summa_, whatsoever
appertains to a man's attire; wherefore I secretly besought the
Lord not to punish us again in His sore displeasure for such pomps
and vanities. When my child beheld all these things she was
grieved that she could bestow upon him naught save her heart
alone, and the chain of the Swedish king, the which she hung round
his neck, and begged him, weeping the while, to take it as a
bridal gift. This he at length promised to do, and likewise to
carry it with him into the grave: but that my child must first
wear it at her wedding, as well as the blue silken gown, for that
this and no other should be her bridal dress, and this he made her
promise to do.
And now a merry chance befell with the old maid, the which I will
here note. For when the faithful old soul had heard what had taken
place, she was beside herself for joy, danced and clapped her
hands, and at last said to my child, "Now to be sure you will not
weep when the young lord is to lie in your bed," whereat my child
blushed scarlet for shame, and ran out of the room; and when the
young lord would know what she meant therewith she told him that
he had already once slept in my child her bed when he came from
Gützkow with me, whereupon he bantered her all the evening after
that she was come back again. Moreover, he promised the maid that
as she had once made my child her bed for him, she should make it
again, and that on the day after to-morrow, she and the ploughman
too should go with us to Mellenthin, so that masters and servants
should all rejoice together after such great distress.
And seeing that the dear young lord would stop the night under my
roof, I made him lie in the small closet together with me (for I
could not know what might happen). He soon slept like a top, but
no sleep came into my eyes for very joy, and I prayed the livelong
blessed night, or thought over my sermon. Only near morning I
dosed a little; and when I rose the young lord already sat in the
next room with my child, who wore the black silken gown which he
had brought her, and, strange to say, she looked fresher than even
when the Swedish king came, so that I never in all my life saw her
look fresher or fairer. _Item_, the young lord wore his black
doublet, and picked out for her the best bits of myrtle for the
wreath she was twisting. But when she saw me, she straightway laid
the wreath beside her on the bench, folded her little hands, and
said the morning prayer, as she was ever wont to do, which
humility pleased the young lord right well, and he begged her that
in future she would ever do the like with him, the which she
promised.
Soon after we went to the blessed church to confession, and all
the folk stood gaping open-mouthed because the young lord led my
child on his arm. But they wondered far more when, after the
sermon, I first read to them in the vulgar tongue the _amende
honorable_ to my child from his princely Highness, together
with the confirmation of the same by his Imperial Majesty, and
after that my patent of nobility; and, lastly, began to publish
the banns between my child and the young lord. Dear reader, there
arose a murmur throughout the church like the buzzing of a swarm
of bees. (_N.B_.-These _scripta_ were burnt in the fire
which broke out in the castle a year ago, as I shall hereafter
relate, wherefore I cannot insert them here _in origine_.)
Hereupon my dear children went together with much people to the
Lord's table, and after church nearly all the folks crowded round
them and wished them joy. _Item_, old Paasch came to our
house again that afternoon, and once more besought my daughter's
forgiveness because that he had unwittingly offended her; that he
would gladly give her a marriage-gift, but that he now had nothing
at all; howbeit that his wife should set one of her hens in the
spring, and he would take the chickens to her at Mellenthin
himself. This made us all to laugh, more especially the young
lord, who at last said, "As thou wilt bring me a marriage-gift,
thou must also be asked to the wedding, wherefore thou mayest come
to-morrow with the rest."
Whereupon my child said, "And your little Mary, my god-child,
shall come too, and be my bridemaiden, if my lord allows it."
Whereupon she began to tell the young lord all that had befallen
the child by the malice of Satan, and how they laid it to her
charge until such time as the all-righteous God brought her
innocence to light; and she begged that since her dear lord had
commanded her to wear the same garments at her wedding which she
had worn to salute the Swedish king, and afterwards to go to the
stake, he would likewise suffer her to take for her bridemaiden
her little god-child, as _indicium secundum_ of her sorrows.
And when he had promised her this, she told old Paasch to send
hither his child to her, that she might fit a new gown upon her
which she had cut out for her a week ago, and which the maid would
finish sewing this very day. This so went to the heart of the good
old fellow that he began to weep aloud, and at last said, she
should not do all this for nothing, for instead of the one hen his
wife should set three for her in the spring.
When he was gone, and the young lord did naught save talk with his
betrothed bride both in the vulgar and in the Latin tongue, I did
better--namely, went up the mountain to pray, wherein, moreover, I
followed my child's example, and clomb up upon the pile, there in
loneliness to offer up my whole heart to the Lord as an offering
of thanksgiving, seeing that with this sacrifice He is well
pleased, as in Ps. li. 19, "The sacrifice of God is a troubled
spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, shall Thou not
despise."
That night the young lord again lay in my room, but next morning,
when the sun had scarce risen----------
* * * * *
Here end these interesting communications, which I do not intend
to dilute with any additions of my own. My readers, more
especially those of the fair sex, can picture to themselves at
pleasure the future happiness of this excellent pair.
All further historical traces of their existence, as well as that
of the pastor, have disappeared, and nothing remains but a tablet
fixed in the wall of the church at Mellenthin, on which the
incomparable lord, and his yet more incomparable wife, are
represented. On his faithful breast still hangs "the golden chain,
with the effigy of the Swedish king." They both seem to have died
within a short time of each other, and to have been buried in the
same coffin. For in the vault under the church there is still a
large double coffin, in which, according to tradition, lies a
chain of gold of incalculable value. Some twenty years ago, the
owner of Mellenthin, whose unequalled extravagance had reduced him
to the verge of beggary, attempted to open the coffin in order to
take out this precious relic, but he was not able. It appeared as
if some powerful spell held it firmly together; and it has
remained unopened down to the present time. May it remain so until
the last awful day, and may the impious hand of avarice or
curiosity never desecrate these holy ashes of holy beings!
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's Sidonia the Sorceress V2, by Milliam Meinhold